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ward the wagon, but she struggled to get free, and moaned like a child in grief. Rosier took her by the hand and tried to speak to her, but he choked, and the tears came to his eyes. Apparently she did not know him.

A few passers-by gathered around now, and it was necessary to lift her into the wagon by force, for the distressed father was confused and embarrassed with her struggles, and the novel scene around him. At the suggestion of the mistress of the family, Rosier lifted her in his arms and seated her in the chair intended for her, but her screams

began to draw a crowd around, and her struggles to free herself were so violent, that it was evident the old man could never take her home alone. Rosier kindly offered to accompany him, and as he held her in her seat and tried to soothe her, the unhappy father got in beside her and drove away.

She reached home, Rosier informed us, in a state of dreadful exhaustion, still calling on the name that haunted her; and we heard soon after, that she relapsed into a brain fever, and death soon came to her with a timely deliverance from her trouble.

THE YOUNG TUTORS.
[SEE PLATE.]

Two children sat among the sheaves
While the clear, summer air
Slept warmly on the cottage eaves,
And cheered the blithesome pair.
Contentedly they conned their book,
Till Fangs came sporting by,
And turned on them a pleading look,
With frolic in his eye.

They thought it hard that he should roam
Uncurbed by wisdom's rule,

While they sat listlessly at home,

And conned their task for school;
So calling him their toil to share,
One held his shaggy head,

The other with pedantic air,

Would trace the words he read!
As strolling by I marked him then
Look on with knowing eyes,
I thought of certain silent men
Who pass for very wise.

ON PREFACES AND DEDICATIONS.

BY W.

A. JONES.

THE day of prefaces and courtly dedications, is well nigh past. The readers of the present generation are generally in too great a hurry to penetrate the inner courts of the Temple of Truth, or oftener of Pleasure, to linger long about the sacred Porch, and are too apt to neglect the formal compliments and elaborate address of the janitor, at the gate. With a disregard and indifference

(more especially with us Americans) to the amenities of social intercourse, has also been introduced a carelessness on the part of authors. Rarely we meet a conciliatory poem or an affectionate salutatory; still less frequently we encounter a critical introduction, or argument of the work. Modern society laughs at the studied courtesies of the old school of politeness; and modern critics are

equally inclined to ridicule the hyperbolical praises and scholastic introductions of their literary forefathers. But let us discriminate. At the same time, that the herd of authors, (not very different in the most unpleasant aspects, at any one period, from what they are at all others,) ran riot in extravagant adulations, and prolix, stupid and tiresome self-eulogium, or worse yet, self-censure, there were writers living who have made the Preface and the Dedication classical provinces of elegant composition; whose skill in spirited portrait and delicate flattery, in the last department and whose clear, acute and copious analogies and illustration, in the first, have rendered them indispensable appendages to the work, we are accustomed to regard as standards in their class.

A preface may be regarded as having the same relation to the work that follows, as the symphony bears to the opera or oratorio; a prologue to a play; or when extended and explanatory, as an overture to an opera. It should give the reader, the key-note to the book itself, and the harmonies, it is supposed to contain. Or else, it should in a bird's-eye view, display the whole scope of the theme, with all its bearings. It should rarely admit of an apologetic tone and never deprecate the honest severity of just criticism. That is a bad book as well as a feeble character, that begs off from a close inspection. There should be no petitio principii, no morbid modesty; neither any false fears, nor artful affectations. Its business is to speak the truth, yet not necessarily the whole of the truth. It is well to keep something in reserve; to promise too little rather than too much; to know how to disappoint one's friends the right way.

In the Dedication, the writer makes his bow and presents his compliments; addressing himself to a near friend, or heart's idol, (a great author or public character, who stands on an elevation far above him, yet whom he cherishes with an affectionate veneration;) and, although the custom is rapidly falling into disuse, it seems to us as disrespectful to the reader for a writer to omit this piece of introductory civility, as it would appear to any well bred company for a person to enter without saluting any member of it, and depart, in the same graceless manner. A similar omission in letters, of an epithet of attachment or regard, strikes us much in the same way, as if one stopped another in the street and fell at once into conversation with him, without shaking of hands, a smile, an inquiry after the person's health who is addressed, a passing good-morrow, or even a civil nod. When a man wishes to assume a magesterial air, to write in the imperative or minatory mood, he may waive all forms of address. But between friends, it is one of the indispensable bonds of connexion, and

furnishes one of the strongest ties (however slight it may appear,) to lasting attach

ment.

Not to trench farther upon the confined limits to which our lucubrations are restricted, we must make an end of these prefatory remarks and come to the point.

In looking through the Index to the First Series of the Curiosities of Literature, we remarked a section on Prefaces; and began to think we had chanced upon a topic already exhausted by the learned research and ingenious criticism of the elder D'Israeli. But a reference to the paragraph in question, speedily satisfied us how much more had been left for subsequent essayists; that the liberal antiquary had by no means employed a tithe of his researches, had merely indicated a point or two, leaving the multifarious instances for future inquirers to accumulate and dispose. Of what he has written, however, (a page or two only,) we readily avail ourselves, for who has more justly gained the title of the Literary Antiquary than D'Israeli, and from whose books can our later critics gain a better insight into many varieties of letters and the profession of authorship, than from the fragmentary note-books of the same author?

Prefaces, it appears, are no modern inventions. Cicero is said to have kept a volume by him fitted for all sorts of works; a species of assorted common-places cast into the form of an address. Prefaces then, as more lately, even down to the time of Johnson, were written to order, by authors who wrote only that part of the published book. Some introductions, too, were and have been written which might have answered equally well for any productions of a similar cast. This is well-known of Sallust's introductory paragraphs to his two histories. And, if we are not mistaken in the recollection, Claredon's preface to his history of the Rebellion, might with slight alteration have answered for a narrative of any popular revolution. Sir W. Raleigh's preface might be prefixed to any universal history; and Hooker's, to any treatise on Ecclesiastical polity, so far as the bearing of the introduction, on the work that follows, is concerned. All of these are, in themselves, intrinsically noble, but with little individuality or close connexion with the particular subject.

A friend reminds us that the same criticism may be applied to Voltaire's preface to his history of Charles XII.; we had forgotten this instance, but adopt it on the testimony of a witness so likely to be correct. Many other examples, we dare say, might be produced; but a few are sufficient.

If we were to fix an era when prefaces might be said to be emphatically in fashion in England, we should be obliged to include a couple of centuries at least; from the beginning of the reign of James I. to the end of

the reign of George III. We might commence nearly a century earlier, but restrict ourselves within pretty well defined limits. A book published at that period, whatever its character or pretensions, without a preface of some description, or a dedication of some kind, might have been regarded as an anomaly. With this necessary requisition, it was not expected, however, that all prefaces and all dedications should be cast into the same mould. It was enough, if the usual form and style of the one, and the customary spirit and length of the others, were observed. It is curious, therefore, to remark the variety of Flatstyles, and the difference of manner. tery wore a number of elegant disguises, from the magnificent hyperbole of Bacon to the easy grace of Steele. Criticism was one thing in the hands of the harmonious Dryden, and quite another thing in the pages of the brilliant and sententious Pope.

Perhaps the finest preface in the language is Pope's Preface to his Miscellanies, most of them written before the age of twenty-five. And, for our own parts, we regard the dedication of the Lover, by Steele, as the noblest dedication we ever read. As the volume is very scarce, we quote the entire epistle, as a masterpiece of its kind :

"To Sir Samuel Garth, M. D.

"Sir-As soon as I thought of making the Lover a present to one of my friends, I resolved, without further distracting my choice, to send it To the best-natured Man. You are so universally known for this character, that an epistle so directed would find its way to you without your name, and I believe nobody but you yourself would deliver such a superscription to any other person.

"This propensity is the nearest akin to love; and good nature is the worthiest affection of the mind, as love is the noblest passion of it; while the latter is wholly employed in endeavoring to make happy one single object, the other diffuses its benevolence to all the world.

"As this is your natural bent, I cannot but congratulate you on the singular felicity, that your profession is so agreeable to your temper. For what condition is more desirable, than a constant impulse to relieve the distressed, and a capacity to administer that relief? When the sick man hangs his eye on that of his physician, how pleasing must it be to speak comfort to his anguish, to raise in him the first motions of hope, to lead him into a persuasion that he shall return to the company of his friends, the care of his family, and all the blessings of being.

"The manner in which you practise this heavenly faculty of aiding human life, is according to the liberality of science, and demonstrates that your heart is more set upon doing good than growing rich.

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"The pitiful artifices which empirics are guilty of, to draw cash out of valetudinarians, are the abhorrence of your generous mind, and it is as common with Garth to supply indigent patients with money for food, as to receive it from wealthy ones for physic. How much more amiable, Sir, would the generosity which is already applauded by all who know you, appear to those whose gratitude you every day refuse, if they knew that you resist their presents lest you should supply those whose wants you know, by taking from those with whose necessities you are unacquainted?

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The families you frequent receive you as their friend and well-wisher, whose concern, in their behalf, is as great as that of those who are related to them by the ties of blood, and the sanctions of affinity. This tenderness interrupts the satisfactions of conversations, to which you are so happily turned, but we forgive you that our mirth is often insipid to you, while you sit absent to what passes amongst us, from your care of such as languish in sickness. We are sensible their distresses, instead of being removed by company, return more strongly to your imagination by comparison of their condition to the jollities of health.

"But I forget I am writing a dedication; and, in an address of this kind, it is more usual to celebrate men's great talents, than those virtues to which such talents should be subservient; yet, where the bent of a man's spirit is taken up in the application of his whole force to serve the world in his profession, it would be frivolous not to entertain him rather with thanks for what he is, than applause for what he is capable of being. Besides, Sir, there is no room for saying anything to you, as you are a man of wit, and a great poet; all that can be spoken in the celebration of such faculties has been incomparably said by yourself to others, or by others to you. You have never been excelled in this kind but by those who have written in praise of you I will not pretend to be your rival, even with such an advantage over you, but assuring you, in Mr. Codrington's words, that I do not know whether my admiration or love is greater,

"I remain, Sir, your most faithful friend, and most obliged humble servant,

"RICHARD STEELE."

If this be not writing from and to the heart we know not what is. This was one of those rare occasions where both writer and patron have a generous spirit, and where praise can be given without servility, and received without loss of self-respect.

To return to the earliest writers of dedications in English (we have forsaken regula*Thou hast no faults, or I no faults can spy; Thou art all beauty, or all blindness I.

Codrington to Dr. Garth, before the Dispensary.

rity of method in the present paper, but shall endeavor to regain it ;) Bacon's dedication of the Advancement, to the King, is a piece of keen satire and magnificent eulogium united, forming a composition of wonderful ingenuity and eloquence. Dryden's dedications are equally splendid and fulsome we cannot help admiring his rich musical style, and copious matter, (a Field of Cloth of Gold), but at the same time we lose all confidence in the sincerity of a man who could address the most insipid peer of the realm in the same glowing colors with which he would depict the features of the prince of poets. His critical prefaces are even finer yet, and may be justly styled æsthetical treatises. Mere prefaces, in a confined sense, Dryden did not write, but rather rich, copious, critical essays. On his own premises, and with his artificial education, Dryden reasoned vigorously, and illustrated his views with beauty, and even splendor of ornament. He has left on record the finest portraits of the Elizabethan dramatists, Shakspeare, Jonson, Beaumont, and Fletcher. But Dryden is not without defects. He is tediously minute in criticising his own dramatic pieces, and displays too much of erudition on points of comparatively trifling importance.

Steele's dedication to the Lover we have extracted. The dedications of the volumes of the Tattler are hardly less fine. They are much shorter, and less personal, but graceful and natural. In the dedication of the first volume, to Mr. Maynwaring, he thus admirably sets forth, (what should have been placed in a preface, for it relates to the work itself, and not to its patron,) the sum of his endeavors, and which might be assumed, with the greatest propriety by every work of the kind : "The general purpose of this paper is to expose the false arts of life, to pull off the disguises of cunning, vanity, and affectation, and to recommend a general simplicity in our dress, our discourse, and our behavior." In the dedication to the second volume, to Mr. Ed. Wortley Montague, he thus delicately compliments his benevolent generosity "I know not how to say a more affectionate thing to you, than to wish that you may be always what you are; and that you may ever think, as I know you now do, that you have a much larger fortune than you want." The third volume opens with a perfect specimen of amenity and courteous eloquence. It is addressed to Lord Cowper, in Steele's proper person, and includes a brilliant portrait of the great statesman, and forensic orator. The concluding volume of the series is presented to Lord Halifax, the Mecanas of the day, to whom every author of eminence offered the first fruits of his genius, and dedicated the choicest productions of his maturer taste. He was the nobleman, ambitious of literary fame, who was "Fed

:

with soft dedications all day long," by Addison, Steele, Pope, Swift, (who afterwards changed his tune, upon being neglected by him,) &c.

Addison's dedications have not so genial a tone as his fellow-laborer's; yet they are unquestionably impressed with the habitual elegance of his style. He was fortunate in his patrons, the first four volumes of the Spectator being addressed to Somers, Halifax, Boyle, and Marlborough.

Pope's preface, we remarked, was perhaps the finest in the language. It is curt, polished, full of sense, with a dash of caustic ironry and refined sentiment curiously blended, and written as with a pen of steel. The same antithetical manner, precision of thought and brilliancy of expression, that made the epigrammatic verse of the Wasp of Twit'nam; prevail in his prose, and in none of his prose pieces do they appear in such a vivid light as in the preface to his Miscellaneous Works.

We can only refrain from transcribing passage after passage by the apprehension of exceeding our prescribed space, and by the reflection that as the works of Pope are so universally accessible, that quotation would only tend to encourage indolence in the reader, who can turn to it readily.

Mr. Chalmers speaks of Johnson's dedications as "models of courtly address: " they might have been such in the reign of the dull Dutchman, George II., but now-a-days they read a little too much like the pompous flourishes of the ancient regime. Goldsmith's dedications are much briefer, but more to the point, and more graceful. In an introduction, despite of the triptology of his style, Johnson was at home. And his style was admirably suitable to occasions of moment and themes of weight and importance. From the sonorous music of his best writing, we can readily admit, that Temple (as has been asserted), was one of the models of Johnson's prose. In point and vigor Johnson was superior, but he wanted Temple's simplicity and ease. Johnson used to say, there were two things he knew he could do well; state what a work ought to contain, and then relate the reasons or deduce the causes, why the writer had failed in executing what he proposed. The first of these talents he possessed to perfection, as we see by his prefaces, most of which were written to order, and are often vastly superior to the book they introduced to the reader. The preface to Roll's Dictionary of Trade and Commerce is a striking instance. Johnson had never seen the book, but was asked to give a preface, which he wrote accordingly. He said he knew what such a book ought to contain, and marked out its expected contents. According to Chalmers, the production was almost worthless. When a bookseller's drudge, the noble old moralist indited many an introduc

tion to books of travel and science, school treatises, translations, catalogues. Only a few of these have been preserved in the correct editions of his works.

Johnson possessed great faculties of method and classification. He had clear and strong, though not fine and subtle powers of analysis and classification. Hence resulted this talent of telling what a book should contain. In a preface it was not his business to go farther. But in his lives and extended criticisms he was equally happy in assigning the causes of ill success and of certain failure, on particular grounds. Goldsmith's prefaces were less rigorous, less pointed, but more graceful and simply beautiful.

After the dissolution of the Johnsonian school of writers, we read few classical prefaces save by pupils of the old classical school. Irving is the last of these. Scott expended considerable pains on his introductions, and proposed rewriting all of his prefaces to the Waverly novels, just before his death. Much of Sir Walter's pleasantest writing occurs in these rambling preludes to his animating narratives. Bulwer's prefaces are distorted by the narrowest egotism and unbounded assumption, yet they are such as a man of his great talents alone would write. The poets have written the best prose and the best prefaces, too; such are (wide apart to be sure) Hunt's lively gossiping introductions, and Wordsworth's elevated lectures, for such they amount to, on the dignity and nobleness of his art.

We trust the day is coming when writers will return to the composition of prefaces, if only to preserve an historical interest in their works. Much of the interest of the old prefaces is derived from the names at the top and bottom of the page, with the date of publication. Prefaces thus afford authentic materials for literary history, and if carefully executed, for literary criticism. They preserve, too, a regard for the good and well

tested standard forms of writing, and in themselves require a species of talent that should not be neglected. To declare his principal aims, and explain his chief intentions, thereby giving the reader a proper clue to the argument of the whole work, with a candid and open avowal of deficiences, is the proper business of a preface, and of a writer of books. To address his friend, or at least the reader, with cordiality or respect, in accordance with the spirit of the production; to bespeak his favorable notice, or seek to avoid unmerited neglect, is the province of the dedication. To accomplish these ends, a recurrence to standand models cannot be hurtful, since there is something of a formal and as it were, of artistical etiquette in the matter, and which is not to be lost sight of. The author, who is also a gentleman, and it is the effect of letters to make him such, will certainly endeavor to carry himself with as genteel an air on paper as in company. In every place, he will observe the universal laws of polite regard and the local observances of conventional decorum. One of these is to write a preface to every book he publishes, which should also be accompanied by a dedication. In the first, he addresses the public; and in the last he acknowledges the claims of private affection or personal gratitude, of admiration for talents or virtue in one of the stars of contemporary literature, or of worth and excellence in obscure genius and unobtrusive merit. The preface pleads, apologizes, defends or attacks: the dedication conciliates and compliments. Let an author be friendless and humble, he still can appeal to the "gentle " reader for sympathy and confidence.

To the lovers of literature, and especially of its curiosities and antiquities, and we hope among the readers of the Miscellany to number many such, we dedicate this petit morceau of criticism and research.

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